


Mercy

by Liraeyn



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 08:09:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19942942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liraeyn/pseuds/Liraeyn
Summary: In every possible outcome, terrible things occur, and Ragnarok is unleashed.  There is only one way to get through it.





	Mercy

I own none of this. 

This fits with Eternal/Finite, in case you’re confused. Also, I am apparently incapable of writing anything without at least one angsty baby scene. 

X 

Screams tore through the icy battlefield. One of the fallen bodies was still moving. 

One quick blow from an enemy sword provided a quick end. That was mercy. It was the only mercy anyone could afford in this war. 

A war that had started for no apparent reason and ended almost before it began. 

Odin intended to be the last of the Aesir to set foot on Jotunheim. That was as it should be. He’d been the first one to arrive. Why send men into a battle he would not be willing to fight himself? He was their king, not their dictator. He had to assume for himself the danger of each of their many wars. The physical costs of battle, he’d paid with his right eye. The moral ones... 

His soul was stained blacker than the Void with the blood of thousands. The Jotuns invading a world that would gain them nothing simply because Laufey said so, the Aesir who had followed him no less blindly, countless souls sent to their respective afterlives at the wrong time by his hand or his daughter’s... 

His daughter. 

Even locked away, she must be busy. He’d seen her ghostly projection several times throughout the battle, collecting those of the dead which were hers to claim. She never directly harmed anyone when she was like that. 

He could see her now, carrying away some dead Jotun. He avoided eye contact. There was nothing between them now, with the partnership they’d once shared fractured to atoms. No matter. Her physical form remained trapped in her prison planet, where she couldn’t hurt anyone except herself. 

Hours passed, and any living Jotuns had long since fled. The Aesir soldiers took what spoils they wanted from the dead, mostly weapons, and returned in batches through the Bifrost. Gradually, the whole planet emptied of the invaders because they didn’t belong here any more than the Jotuns belonged on Midgard, leaving Odin behind, alone. 

Nearly alone. 

He couldn’t place the sound at first. Of the many sounds of battle -weapons clashing, soldiers marching, dying screams- he’d heard today, this was not one of them. It made no sense, and he decided to ignore it. 

Odin had nearly reached the Bifrost seal when something clicked, and he let out a string of choice words. It was a baby crying, of all things. Maybe its mother was trying to hide from the armies or just got lost. No way of knowing. 

But it didn’t stop. 

It was none of his concern. The Jotuns could abandon one of their own if they wished. Maybe it wasn’t even that. Fog of war covered a multitude of sins. An unwanted child, an unnecessary burden and risk, proof of adultery even. To simply walk away, in the middle of a battle, would hardly be seen as a crime in their battle-hardened culture. The Asgardians only concerned themselves with the Jotun’s actions when it affected another planet. What they did with one of their own meant absolutely nothing to Odin. 

Which is why he cloaked himself from everyone except Heimdall and went to go look. 

The sound came from what looked like a temple. Bloodstains and bodies on the floor told of innocent enough civilians seeking sanctuary inside. Sanctuary his own soldiers had not respected. He would have to figure out later which ones, and impose consequences. 

The tiny creature squirming in the corner knew all too well about consequences. 

He’d seen a few Jotun children here and there, running from the soldiers of either army or clinging to their mothers. This one was painfully undersized. Perhaps that factored into why it had been abandoned here, perhaps not. Red eyes tracked him as he walked towards it. He stopped cold. One glance down at himself proved utterly disorienting; the spell worked even on him. How could a mere newborn, cord still attached, outsmart a spell like that? 

Part of him was already glad that the Jotuns had, intentionally or otherwise, abandoned the little one. It had too much power for them to handle. They’d already abused the Casket. Better they didn’t come back for their undersized progeny. 

The baby quieted abruptly, and he thought it had given up the pointless struggle. That was a relief, and he turned to go. 

“Coward.” 

He’d nearly reached the temple door before a cool female voice drew him back. Dark hair, black clothing. The telltale green shimmer that spoke of her usual projection. 

“Daughter.” 

“I’d rather be called a coward.” 

That stung, though he would never show it. “Is there something in particular you need, or are you just claiming one last-” he gestured towards the not-dead-after-all infant, which had started to fuss again. 

“That one’s not for me. Too young, too... pure.” Hela spoke the last word like a curse. In her new prison, perhaps it was. “If you want it dead, kill it yourself. I’m not your executioner anymore. You’ll just have to learn how to manage without.” 

“I’ll get another.” As a matter of fact, he already had. He killed with a word, not a blade. If that was cowardice, it was one he would gladly keep. 

She just laughed. “Another executioner, another commander, another heir, another wife...” A quick glance at the dying child. “Why not another one of those things?” 

He shook his head. “No. I won’t take it, and I won’t let the Jotuns reclaim something with that kind of power. I’d thought it would just die on its own, but...” The child had resumed kicking and fussing with renewed irritation at its current predicament. He sighed with resignation, knelt beside it, and placed his hand over its mouth and nose. Hela gave no reaction, just cleaned her fingernails with a pocketknife. Even as a projection, she gained enough blood on her hands to rival his own. 

When it was done, he left for home without a backward glance. 

X 

Odin had to admit, it was difficult to look at Thor after what had happened. His golden child blazed like the sun, so full of life. A sharp contrast to the dying child on Jotunheim. 

He never told anyone. Heimdall made one or two offhand comments, and eventually revealed that no one had ever come looking for the little-loved child. He’d been weak. A useless liability on and off the battlefield. Smothering it had been mercy. 

It still bothered him. 

Years went on, and Frigga grew distant. In the back of his mind, he wondered if she knew. She would hate him if so, and perhaps she did. No matter. Her role was to serve him and mother his one remaining child, and she played it well. 

When he went looking for her one morning, and found her absolutely still in her bed, surrounded by a few spellbooks, it wasn’t as surprising as it should have been. The funeral was simple. She had gone too quietly for Valhalla. There was some grief for that. They would never see each other again. 

Odin knew all too well what Thor was becoming, a reverse image of Hela but no less violent. He found himself unable to replicate his daughter’s banishment, instead leaving Asgard to its fate while he found solace on Midgard. 

Even from there, they could see the fires of Ragnarok. 

No word ever came of what exactly happened. There were no survivors to be found. The mortals called it a supernova, without knowing that it was a planet, rather than a star. They knew nothing about Yggdrasil or its twists and turns. 

His own death, when it came, was without the glory he’d once sought. 

X 

“Odin Borson.” 

The solemn voice startled him. He floated in black space undisturbed by light of any kind. No sign of the speaker. 

“Who are you?” 

“I have no need for a name. Call me the Ancient One if you like. You need to go back. There is something you must change.” 

“What do I have to do?” He decided to believe the voice. There was nothing left for him to lose. 

“You may try as many times as you need, but you must find the correct path on your own. I will send you to the moment to attempt first.” 

He agreed without words and the world exploded into living color. 

X 

Whatever Odin had expected, this wasn’t it. 

Hela gave him a knowing look and stalked away, vanishing in a burst of gold and black. The child thrashed under his hand and he snatched it away. Okay, you want to live. Let’s start with the simplest change. 

He backed off and settled himself in the corner to wait. Perhaps Heimdall had been wrong. Maybe some of the Jotuns would try to find the little one if it lived longer. It would suffer for hours, but only once. 

The cries died away quickly enough, but resumed after what he realized was a quick rest. He was invisible; if anyone did come looking, they would just walk right past him to get to the undersized scrap. 

No one ever came. 

It took Odin longer than it should have to realize the infant had finally expired. It hadn’t made a sound in a long time, and when he looked, it lay absolutely still. 

What he’d done the first time around had been the mercy he’d always thought, but ultimately, it changed nothing. 

He cast a quick spell to try again. 

X 

This time, it was even earlier. 

Hela hadn’t even appeared when he lifted the baby into his arms. A discarded blanket served for wrapping, and soon enough, Odin and his precious cargo departed the temple for home. 

“That’s cute.” 

Of course he couldn’t escape without some brief exchange with his lost daughter. He turned to face her, tucking the foundling under one arm. 

“You’ll take that thing in for looking at you the right way, but all I did was fight one battle without you, and now I’m locked in prison for the rest of your miserable life-” 

He ignored her, stalking towards the first patch of open sky he could find. She left him with one last jab. 

“You can pretend it’s not to replace me, if you like. You can pretend you don’t mean to raise it. But if you let your dear wife find out about him, we both know what’s going to happen.” 

Frigga greeted him at the Bifrost with a joy he now knew concealed a sickness inside. She saw right through him, to no surprise on his part. The little one was completely hidden under his warm cloak, yet she knew. 

“Let me see what you’ve taken.” Her tone would allow no argument. His exiled and forgotten daughter knew her stepmother well. With a sense of fate, he opened his cloak and handed the child over. Frigga took it into her arms with a look of cautious wonder on her face. Within moments, she’d gathered it against her chest. As a response, it clutched at one of her fingers. 

“I found it in their temple, just abandoned in the corner. They weren’t coming back for it.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Odin nodded. “Yes.” He didn’t feel like explaining how. “It was going to die if I didn’t grab it.” 

Frigga unwrapped the little one just enough. “‘It’ is a ‘he’. He’ll need a name.” At Odin’s quizzical look, she continued. “Okay, I’m assuming they work like we do...?” 

He actually laughed. It felt out of practice. “Not that. I figured you would want to raise him.” 

“I do.” 

“Then name him. I need to check on my soldiers.” 

X 

Odin was surprised at the lack of significant change to the timeline, at least at first. No one questioned a second child. Thor had to be persuaded to not poke his new brother’s eyes out. Frigga named the little one Loki, and it felt so right. Things progressed as they would have otherwise, and yet, there was a little more light in his queen’s eyes. 

Thor eventually seemed to mellow, just a bit, having his brother to protect and mentor. That was as it should be. He needed a counterpart, someone to tell him when he was making a mistake. All was well. 

Then out of nowhere, Loki became ill. 

He’d thought at first it was heat stroke, which would have made sense considering his native species and Asgard’s natural warmth. Or an infection. Or a curse. It made no difference. Multiple attempts at running through that timeline, including taking Loki to one or another of the Nine Realms, even Jotunheim, and for whatever reason, he couldn’t live past that point. He died every time. 

A devastated Frigga soon followed. The effect it had on Thor could only have been terrible, but it was hard to determine exactly what it was when he just could not find an alternate outcome. He even tried one method or another to bring back his younger child because that was his son, no matter what happened, with no success. Hela, locked in her prison, had the most success, but the reanimated child was unable to leave. That was no life for anyone. Even Hela knew that. She suggested that it might work better if she’d interacted with Loki while he was younger. 

That was an obvious ploy, and he saw through it in a heartbeat. 

X 

He gave up, went back to the first attempt at bringing the child home, and let it play out in full. His hopes that Thor would turn out better this time around were dashed, but there was always the chance of some butterfly effect fixing everything, right? 

Wrong. 

He even tried releasing Hela, once. It had taken his own life, but he still watched. His two children battled over Asgard and, in classic sibling form, destroyed it in the process with everyone trapped in it. It was as if Loki had never lasted beyond that cold and bloodstained day in Jotunheim. 

He only tried that once. 

Back even farther. 

X 

In the middle of one of the many battles on Midgard, he’d once tried to see Hela’s future. It had been out of nothing but fatherly concern, after she returned late from a battle. Even knowing she was unscathed hadn’t shifted the sense that something was about to go badly wrong with her. It turned out to be a bloodbath not too long after their return to Asgard. 

Avoiding exactly that by banishing her to Helheim had been what started the whole problem. There wasn’t a way around that. She was unwell, in a way he could not fix. She would have to find her own way back. 

He could wait, long enough to finish the war. That wouldn’t take nearly as long as winning it without his best warrior. He even thought there might be fewer deaths that way. 

What he didn’t expect was to lose his eye while taking the Casket. That hadn’t happened before. A small price to pay. The deaths in the palace were a greater one. But that was it. That was the one that worked. 

X 

He stood on the edge of a cliff, where he knew his children would be reunited one day. It would be a long and difficult road for them. The Ancient One stood behind him, and laid a hand on his shoulder. Her voice was soft. 

“Are you ready then? One last stab at the past?” 

“Did I find the correct one?” 

The strange mortal nodded. “It will work. But I have to erase your memories to do it.” 

He agreed without question. But somehow, he remembered a sunny day on the edge of that cliff. Remember this place. Home.


End file.
